


That Coexistence That is Really the Goddess

by AkisMusicBox



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: A Conversation in the Cathedral, Blood, Blood and Injury, Don't copy to another site, Drawing, During a Battle, F/M, First Aid, First Aid on the Battlefield, Ignatz is a Good Judge of Character, Major Character Injury, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:19:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22563118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkisMusicBox/pseuds/AkisMusicBox
Summary: "You'll need to take it easy, Professor. We'll get you to Marianne and she'll patch you up right as -"Ignatz stopped as he heard fabric ripping. Claude tore the clasp off of his cape, taking the cape and folding it lengthwise a few times. "Claude..." Ignatz said, but Claude ignored him as he lifted Byleth's leg just enough to loop the silk around her thigh. He tied it like a bandage and used the clasp to hold it firm.A close scrape during the latest mission leaves Claude unsettled. Ignatz, however, finds inspiration.EDIT: This was originally a one-shot. It now has a followup chapter, five years later.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan & Ignatz Victor, My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 29
Kudos: 321





	1. The Thing of Storybooks

Claude's fingers twitched against his bowstring as he assessed the Professor's surroundings. He and Ignatz had taken the guard tower, so they had a clear view of the bandits approaching. Claude had wanted to send Ignatz with the Professor, however. "Nothing would help his sword skills improve quicker than fighting by your side," he argued.

Byleth merely shook her head. "I need you to keep those bandits wary, and him to secure the villager's escape route. That's best done from above."

Hilda and Lorenz were leading the rest of the students against the main body of the bandits. Perhaps it had been foolish for both Claude and Byleth to leave it to them, but Lorenz was always ready to prove his worth. He and Hilda would ensure that the bandits wouldn't escape with any of the treasure. And the villager had a baby.

Ignatz tensed as a bandit made his way to the professor through the trees, trying to line up a shot. "Easy," Claude warned. "Look at her. She knows he's there, and you'll risk alerting others if you loose prematurely." Indeed, Byleth's stride had slowed and grip on her sword adjusted. She was biding her time to turn around and strike.

"I know," Ignatz said, voice wavering. "But it doesn't make it easy to stand here and watch."

"Agreed," Claude said. He peeled his eyes away from her and focused on the villager, clutching the bundle in her arms and keeping her back pressed to a fence.

The baby cried. Hell broke loose.

Byleth turned and in an instant, sliced the stalker across the chest. Before the body hit the ground she turned and ran to the villager, four bandits in hot pursuit. Claude and Ignatz rained arrows down on them, slowing their progress and downing two.

She made it to the villager and assessed the clearing. The exposure made Claude uneasy -- he should be picking off the remaining bandits, but Byleth's posture warned him against growing complacent. Her eyes locked on something in the trees, and she raised her shield and retreated to the villager's side. He followed her gaze and found a fifth bandit in the canopy, poised with a longbow. Claude loosed an arrow at his torso, but the instant it connected, the bolt flew as well. The bandit's body fell out of the tree. The bolt veered.

It buried itself in Byleth's thigh. She stifled a sharp grunt.

Claude and Ignatz finished the remaining bandits in quick succession as Byleth fought to remain standing. Once the path was cleared, the villager ran and the child's wailing faded into the distance. Only then did Byleth's blood-streaked leg give and she crumpled to the ground. Her fawns descended the tower and rushed to her side.

She was sitting upright when Claude pulled his dagger from his hip. "Lay down, Teach. I need a better look." She coughed and eased herself down, jade hair matting itself in dirt and blood. The sight of the shaft sticking out of her curdled his stomach. The slick coating on it made it drop.

"Poison," Claude said and flicked a look of concern to Ignatz. Ignatz nodded stoically. "I have Antitoxin as well," he said as he pulled vials out of his satchel. "We can get her patched up before we get to Marianne."

Claude nodded and started cutting away at the damaged fabric around the wound. "I'll save my speech about the impracticality of lace in combat for later," he quipped as he discarded the bloody mesh.

She coughed, or was it an attempt at a laugh? Claude couldn't tell because his gloves were losing friction with every bit of blood that stained her pale leg. Ignatz rinsed it with water so Claude could see the angle of the puncture.

Ignatz searched the ground. "Do you see any sticks? Or something for her to -" Claude answered that by ripping a glove off and pulling an arrow out of his quiver. He snapped it over his knee and handed the half with fletching to Ignatz. "Sorry, Professor," Ignatz said as the put the arrow in her mouth horizontally. She clenched her teeth on the shaft and nodded.

Claude braced his bare hand against her flesh and grabbed the bolt with the gloved one. He took a deep breath through his nose and silently begged whoever would listen for forgiveness. He yanked the bolt out with an exhale.

Byleth shrieked against the arrow's shaft. Claude threw the bolt and his glove away in disgust.

Blood started welling up in the wound, but Ignatz poured the Antitoxin on it and the blood began to bubble. Byleth inhaled sharply at the popping and sizzling. Once it settled, Ignatz rinsed the wound again and poured a Concoction over it. She sighed as the bleeding staunched and muscles tried to knit themselves together. Ignatz removed the arrow from her teeth. "You'll need to take it easy, Professor. We'll get you to Marianne and she'll patch you up right as -"

Ignatz stopped as he heard fabric ripping. Claude tore the clasp off of his cape, taking the cape and folding it lengthwise a few times. "Claude..." Ignatz said, but Claude ignored him as he lifted Byleth's leg just enough to loop the silk around her thigh. He tied it like a bandage and used the clasp to hold it firm.

"That should hold for now," he said and offered her a hand up. She took it, and they rose. Ignatz packed his satchel and joined them.

"Thank you." Byleth assessed the battlefield as she stretched her leg. Claude could recall the side effects of the healing potion, itching and twitching under the skin and it made goosebumps rise on his arms. "Ignatz, join Leonie. Claude and I will make our way to Marianne and Raphael, and once I'm recovered, he'll join Hilda and I'll find Lorenz." She took a step forward, and her leg tried to buckle.

Claude grabbed her arm and steadied her. "Easy, Teach. Take it slow. And who knows? They might finish the job before we even make it to the main fray."

* * *

Claude was far from pious, but he couldn't deny the peace of the cathedral in the evenings. The moonlight was enough to lighten most of the expansive room. Shadows grew long and fantastical. Even the smallest footstep was amplified. These were things he could see some sort of divinity in. _Man built it, but nature still plays around in it. Perhaps it's that interplay, that coexistence that is really the Goddess._

He could hear furious pencil scratching from the front one of the front pews, and the bob of a blonde head. He drug his feet a bit more to give Ignatz warning of his approach. Ignatz looked up and smiled. "Claude! Are you hear to pray?"

Claude put a hand on the end of Ignatz's pew. "You surely aren't." He gestured to Ignatz's paper and variety of pencils. "Contemplating 'divine beauty' again?"

Ignatz chuckled at Claude's needling. "Not this time. Actually just thinking about that last mission."

Claude softened. "It was hard to see Teach like that."

Ignatz nodded. "Yes, but... there was something else. I needed to sketch it out, and the light in here felt right."

"But it was sunny that day," Claude pointed out, taking a seat next to Ignatz. He wished he'd had a soft hand like Ignatz in this regard - being better able to visualize his schemes would have made it easier to see the outcomes. _I don't think he's ready to be my mapmaker yet, but maybe... I'll earn his trust. And he'll start to see the elegance in my plans, not just the deception._

Ignatz nodded and offered the sketch to Claude. "But your expression wasn't. And that's the tone that the sketch needed to take."

It was far from a recreation of the scene that day. Instead, a single tree watched over Byleth as she leaned against it. She was in a dress, and it was pulled a scandalous height over her leg. Claude bound her thigh, but instead of looking at her leg, he was looking into her eyes, a man haunted. That had been where most of the scribbling had been focused, erasing and shading again and again to give his eyes depth. Hers watched him in trust. Claude bit the inside of his cheek.

"I've heard of artistic license, but you might check what that gives you rights to," he said and handed the sketch back.

Ignatz passed him a book instead. "I - I understand! What I mean is that - well, I was confused at first. I had bandages in my kit." He shook the book in front of Claude, and Claude conceded to take it.

_"The Verdant Prince,"_ Claude read aloud. "An orphan who creates his imaginary kingdom on top of a hill with a single tall tree." 

"Yes!" Ignatz said. "The prologue at the beginning of the book makes an excellent story for children, but the rest of the book is a thrilling knight's tale, including..." He opened the book three-quarters of the way. "Illustrations."

The pose was almost identical, except for Veritan's expression. He watched Violetta with worship as he tied a piece of his cape around her thigh as a token of his affection. Violetta and Byleth's expressions matched.

Claude bit his tongue for a moment. "I'm sure our dear mercenary-turned-professor would be fascinated by this character study," Claude said carefully.

"It's not for her!" Ignatz stammered. "Just - please, Claude. Please let me explain." He stared at his pencil. "You - you fancy yourself a schemer. And you - you're an excellent tactician! But, you lean into it. You embrace people thinking to mistrust you, and it works because they end up overthinking or making a wrong assumption." He finally looked to Claude, and Claude saw steel flash in the artist's eyes.

"It's not a criticism. I - I'm honored to fight by your side. And I can always trust that your ploys and plots are for everyone's safety. Because what is honor and courage without skill? Does it mean anything if you can't return to the ones you care about? No, I respect you immensely, Claude." He exhaled. "But I don't know if you respect yourself for that."

Claude's eyebrows raised. Ignatz continued. "You've internalized that identity. You need the world to believe that you're not to be trusted or taken lightly so badly that you've made yourself believe it. You know what you need to be to achieve your goals. And I understand that. I'm going to be a knight for my family. It's not an easy identity for me to wear, but I do it. But, look at me." He held out his charcoal-smeared hands. "I haven't been as successful as you in internalizing who I need to become."

As Claude stared at Ignatz's callouses, raised red covered in black, Ignatz said, "I think that's come at a great cost to you. You... you don't see yourself as a knight. Your honor can't be on your sleeve. It has to be wrapped in layers of misdirection."

Claude looked back to the book. "And you wanted to show me otherwise? By creating a sketch of one of the most... let's say, heated parts of an otherwise noble knight's tale?" Claude rubbed his smooth chin. "I don't know if that quite has the right effect."

Ignatz rolled his eyes. "You're one of the most well-read people in the monastery. You know this book. This image was burned in your head, and that's why, in a moment of distress, you grabbed your cloak instead of a bandage out of the medical kit."

"Silk's harder to puncture," Claude mumbled, cheeks burning. "That lace is entirely impractical."

Ignatz thumped the book excitedly. "That's why you're not Veritan. You're still practical at heart. Veritan was all about pageantry - they were on top of a _hill_ and yes the moment was right, but anyone could have seen that display! Her honor was at stake, but he was more worried about being true to his feelings. You don't. You got the bandit, but she still was hurt. And you were helping her, but it still had to hurt to tear the bolt out."

Claude's stomach lurched at the memory of her cry.

Ignatz pointed to Claude's expression on the sketch. "That's why you're different. You are feeling for her at that moment, not indulging yourself. And I think that's more honorable."

"Don't tell Ashe," Claude said, shaking his head incredulously. "He's got an opinion or two about knights and chivalry."

Ignatz handed him the sketch again. "This is for you. I... I truly think you need to remember this." Claude opened his mouth to argue, but Ignatz cut him off. "I'm not taking 'no' for an answer. I started painting because I wanted to make people smile, but I think art can do more than that."

Claude accepted the sketch. "On one condition. Nobody needs to know about your... conclusions," he said. "Especially Teach."

Ignatz chuckled nervously as he packed away his supplies. "I know, I know. That's a big reason why it's never going beyond a sketch. However... I think you should know that I overheard the Professor asking Hilda about how to repair your cape. The tears and the stains."

Claude's palms sweat. "I'm sure Hilda has all kinds of advice on clothing repair."

Ignatz gave him a probing look. "Hilda agreed to help, but the Professor's request was worded fairly vaguely... I could advise Hilda that you've already replaced it. You don't need it back. Instead, it could turn into something for the Professor to keep."

Claude was speechless. He couldn't remember the last time someone offered to scheme on his behalf and would have never expected it from the earnest man in front of him. He thought about the suggestion for a moment, remembering the way the gold looked wrapped around her leg. "Teach can be a bit vague. If Hilda drew the conclusion that the Professor's battle attire should use sturdier materials, then I could hardly be blamed for that." He stood. "And if you happened to send Hilda down that train of thought, I certainly wouldn't tell Teach."

Ignatz smiled. "Consider it done."

Claude put a hand on the pew again and said, "Fighting isn't the only way to support your family. A commander's only as good as the intel they have, and a cartographer who also knows the battlefield is invaluable. I, Lorenz, even the Church needs people who can take the world and distill it into something usable. Have you seen some of the maps of Faerghus? Disgraceful. I can find you that kind of work when you graduate if that's what you want. Whoever it is you'd be proud to serve."

Ignatz smiled. "That's incredibly kind, Claude. Thank you. I think I have some ideas about who already."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH TataBanchou made me a birthday present of one very particular scene! [Check it out!](https://twitter.com/TataBanchou/status/1298387537694785544?s=19)


	2. Something to Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was previously a one-shot. Was expanding it slightly worth it? We'll see.

Blood grew sticky on Ignatz's cheek. His, Claude's, the Professor's, or a combination of the three, he couldn't be sure, but he was far beyond caring at the moment. All he cared about was Marianne's, Linhardt's, and Mercedes's strength not giving out as they worked to heal Claude.

All Seteth cared about was the unknown that was pouring the blood of the vessel of the Goddess into a human. An unknown that Byleth seemed to care nothing about. She sat on the throne in the audience chamber, the only thing clean or tidy about her appearance the bright white bandage wrapped around her arm. She had spared only a Vunerality at the time to staunch her own bleeding -- the dregs of her strength focused on Claude. Magic, blood, grief, rage, all of it.

The old Ignatz would have been horrified at the sight he had witnessed. Now, it was almost a comfort. He had sided with the people who cared.

"I wouldn't be the first who sat on this throne and tried to save a life by whatever means necessary," Byleth finally said. Seteth looked horrified. "Rhea would have never taken such a..." His voice trailed off. He covered his mouth with a grime-covered hand.

Byleth's eyes went to Ignatz. "How many years does it take to turn a do-gooder into a legend? The thing of storybooks and titles that transcend time?"

His throat tightened. _The Blade Breaker._ "Fifty years, at least," he said. "More for those who lived during their rise for society to grow hazy on the details. To forget how a person ages."

Seteth pressed his lips together. He took a moment before he said, "We are on the cusp of a new age. You defeated the most ancient enemy Fodlan has ever known."

Byleth's eyes darted to him, stern. Seteth rephrased. "You and he defeated Nemesis. A joint effort, at great personal cost. But he had done everything possible to bring about a new dawn. What you did might have jeopardized that if the world finds out that one of its saviors --"

Byleth slammed a fist against the arm of her throne. "This new dawn would not be possible without Rhea's compassion to a lowly mercenary. I would not be here if Jeralt had not had the chance to meet Sitri."

Seteth averted his gaze. Ignatz had almost felt bad for his old instructor -- Claude and he had never found the chance to meet eye to eye, but Ignatz knew they only wanted what was best for those under their protection. One, by the will of the Goddess. The other, by his own convictions. "I believe in him, Seteth," Ignatz said, turning to him. Seteth studied him. "I have served under him for many years now. I promise you that any risk Claude takes is with great concern. Claude does not see the color of one's skin or the banner they fly under and make a snap decision. He doesn't even risk his most capable without due cause. Like the life of a poor villager's baby."

Byelth's expression only softened then, a hand finding the gold fabric that covered her thighs. The first proper scheme Ignatz had contributed to. The scar that undoubtedly marred her flesh was hidden from the world and that was right by Ignatz. The moment tied with it was not for the world. He wasn't even sure if it was for him, but he treasured it all the same.

Ignatz continued. "Claude will not fail. Nothing of the Goddess will turn him into something either of them would be ashamed of."

Seteth's expression was still hard, but his eyes wanted to belive Ignatz. "I was never convinced of the boy's faith in school." He looked at Byleth. "Except for his faith in you. He was always an unknown quantity. His heritage did nothing to convince the church." He shook his head. "Convince us, I should say. But of all the house leaders from back then... I suppose I was most wrong about him." He exhaled. "His tale must begin now. We must shape the narrative now before the world has time to decide what it should be."

"I will assist," Ignatz said without hesitation. "I can provide the right context and illustrations."

Byleth nodded a low, heavy one that conveyed she could finally rest. "In the morning," she said. "But no later. He will awake soon."

Ignatz and Seteth both gave a low bow and left her. Ignatz knew she would merely return to Claude's bedside, despite needing rest herself. But they had been dismissed and they had things to discuss, so instead of insisting she rest, they went to Seteth's office.

"Tell me what you remember," Seteth said. He passed a pencil and paper to Ignatz as well. "Sketch it as well, if that helps."

Ignatz took the pencil and rolled it in his well-calloused hands. "Right. Most of it everyone knows, but there are a few pieces that are key."

* * *

" ... so we can open our true hearts to one another!" Claude yelled, loosing his electric red bolt into the sky. "That's how we win!" He charged at Nemesis in a full run and if Ignatz had a single arrow left in his quiver, he would have done _something_. Literally anything to distract the ancient enemy from the streak of gold that ran a fool's charge. A dagger, a blade, _something_ that would have been effective at close range, but Claude's axe had broken halfway through the battle. Failnaught was his only aid, but the bow could only do so much against the sword that bore a terrible resemblance to the Professor's.

The swing of Nemesis's massive arm lashed the jointed sword from Claude's hip to shoulder. The courtesy of only flipping him was not granted -- when Claude's back hit the ground, the slash was already welling with blood. And Nemisis's sword was already stained with it.

The Professor did not hesitate. With an anguished roar, she filled the space that Claude was once in and met Nemisis, blade-to-blade. She fended him off long enough for the bright red bolt to descend and pierce his arm. A scream, a swing, and Byleth's blade clashed with his and his shattered into splinters. A well-practiced slash across the chest was all it took. Nemesis fell; the slash glowed; the enemies dissolved.

And Claude's blood was soaking the ground.

Ignatz ran to his side and flipped him onto his back. Claude coughed; he tried to talk; he failed. He stained his silks with blood.

Ignatz tore corks out of potion bottles faster than he could consider what they could contain, but it didn't matter. Anything would help to staunch the bleeding, to counter any ancient toxin that the blade could be coated with. He saturated Claude's exposed flesh with them, and they tried, by god they tried but the wounds ran deep.

Ignatz only noticed when Byleth appeared when Claude's eyes turned to the side. "Sorry... my... frien..." Claude croaked.

"Hush." Her tone threatened sternness only in an echo. She was shaking. He was growing paler by the moment.

"Dagger," Byleth said to Ignatz. He passed it over wordlessly as he poured another Vunerality over the jagged wounds.

The bracer being shed from her arm didn't alarm him. Neither did the point of the blade finding her forearm until Claude tried to croak in protest. "Hold his head up," Byleth said as blood welled at the tip of her blade. And once again, he did, because if he could not believe in Byleth, then he could not believe.

As a stream poured from her arm, she pressed it to Claude's lips. "Trust me, friend. Drink."

He drank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TataBanchou showed me [this](https://twitter.com/missaaxel_fuuka/status/1293754299445424129/photo/1) art recently and I couldn't help myself.

**Author's Note:**

> WHY ARE YA'LL BEING SO NICE TO MY OTHER FIC IT'S TOO MUCH so here, take this! This is one of the marginally wilder ideas I had and ya'll gave me so much POSITIVE REINFORCEMENT you have to see it now. This is me getting to play with Claude and Ignatz's support!
> 
> Also, if there are better battlefield-appropriate terms, or terms for pieces of Claude's outfit, please let me know! It was driving me crazy trying to figure that out :D


End file.
